Elizabeth 1.1

Hot / Squirrel Nut Zippers











I keep nodding and smiling, because that’s what you do with crazy people you are stuck next too. In the two minutes since I have sat down, the woman next to me on the plane has not been quiet. As she started her conversation in the middle of it, I have no idea what she is talking about.



“Oh, my name’s Andy.” This is the first coherent thing she’s said, though it was said into her oversized bag as she dug out a mirrored compact. “I look pretty today.” She announces as she bobs so she can see in the inch square mirror.


Her hair is an unnatural orange red which matches her lipstick. It is styled in a manner that we used to call “big hair.” Her hair is matched only by her chest that appears like a fold out tray coming from her body. This might be a good thing as there would be no room for the one attached on the seat in front of her. I think she is close to my age, which means past retirement. I’m still smiling and nodding like a puppet, as she goes on, relieved she has not left time for me to offer my name.

“Does this plane go through the Bermuda Triangle? I’ve always wanted to see that. Maybe we’ll get lost. Wouldn’t that be a hoot.”

Please God no, I think, but I keep smiling and nodding.


“You know, you get a Senior discount on the headphones.” She is now silent waiting for a reply.

“Oh? I didn’t know. I don’t travel often.” I suppose I cannot be offended since my own hair is a pure white and has been for years.

“Oh I do. I love to travel. So are you by yourself? No partner? What made you decide to take this trip then?”


Though I don’t want to, I decide to answer the last question in hopes of avoiding the others. Never be rude; it’s my fatal flaw.


“Oh, the grandkids decided it would be a good idea to send me off for a vacation. It was a holiday present.” I laugh and pull out my book, hoping it will be a polite hint.


“Oh how many?”

“Excuse me?”

“How many kids?”


“Two sons, five grandchildren, three girls and two boys.” I smile and open the book.


“You have pictures?”


“No. Sorry.” Never rude, but little white lies are okay.


With a resigned sigh, that I am sure relfects that I am not entertaining enough, Andy takes to trying to talk to the person who is trying to sit in the seat in front of her. I am saved, though I wonder for how long.


Thankfully somewhere over Long Island I drift off to sleep and am blissfully unaware for the remainder of our flight, until Andy has nudged my side and told me we are heading in for a landing.